


Lovely

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, The Quidditch Pitch: Self Pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: An outtake from Fire and Ice  Ron helps Hermione find another side to herself. . .





	Lovely

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

This scene takes place the December before the events of chapter six.

 

Hermione walked briskly towards the third floor corridor, the cool December air making her wish she’d worn a thicker dressing gown. She reached the worn old door in record time, whether it was the cold, or her desperation to see Ron, she didn’t know. . . Perhaps both.

She reached to open the door, but squeaked in surprise when it opened for her, revealing Ron, grinning. He held open the heavy door with one hand and reached for the knot on her dressing gown with the other, tugging her towards him.

“Hey,” Ron whispered against her lips, giving her a quick kiss. “What took you so long?”

“Lavender and Parvati were up until just a bit ago. I couldn’t leave until I was sure they were asleep.”

“The nerve. . . Didn’t they know you had things to do?” Ron said, wagging his eyebrows at her.

Hermione swatted his arm in mock disgust as he shut the door, and pressed her to him, his hands roving up her back, then sinking into her short curls. Ron captured her lips with his, his tongue sweeping into her willing mouth, and Hermione gave a muffled moan as the fire spread through her.

It had been almost a week since she’d last been with him, and it had felt like an eternity. She’d grown so used to him, that even a day with out his touch was too long. Though they usually didn’t have the opportunity to spend the whole evening together, they always managed to find a few minutes alone. Usually, it was Ron pulling her into an abandoned room, taking her quickly against a wall or a desk, fully clothed with only her knickers tossed aside and his trousers shoved down past his hips. They both needed the connection, no matter how hastily done.

She broke away from him and sighed, “What are we going to do. . . Two weeks is going to seem like forever.”

Ron ran his lips down her throat, nipping lightly at the tender skin there. “Stay here with me, with us. . . Christmas just won’t be the same without you.”

“I know, but I have no choice. My parents want me home. I can’t say no, especially since I’ll probably spend most of the summer training. I hardly ever get a chance to see them anymore.”

Ron groaned, pulling at the tie of her dressing gown until it came undone. “God, I’ll hate being reduced to wanking in the loo until you get back.“

Hermione gave a shocked laughed and pulled away. “Ron!”

“What?” he said, totally unembarrassed. “Don’t act so shocked. . . I’m sure you’ll be doing something similar. I know you can’t last two weeks. . . not even close.”

Hermione thought about it for a second, “I never considered that possibility, to be honest.”

Ron stopped what he was doing to look at her in surprise. “What’d mean you’ve never considered it? You have done it. . . haven’t you?”

Hermione shook her head silently, biting her lip.

“You’re kidding! All this time and you’ve never. . . not once. . .” Ron stuttered. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” she whispered, not knowing why she was feeling embarrassed.

“You’ve never touched yourself?” Ron asked again, totally incredulous. “With as randy as you are?”

Hermione didn’t even blush at his comment; she knew she was randy. She’d actually done research on it at one point and determined that a healthy sexual appetite was perfectly normal, and actually quite good for one’s well being.

“Well, of course I’ve touched myself. . . I’ve just never,” she hesitated, looking at Ron who’s jaw had gone slightly slack. “I’ve just never pleasured myself.”

Ron continued to stare at her until Hermione saw something light in his eyes, that devious glint that spoke of trouble, but sent a thrill though her none the less.

“What are you plotting?” Hermione asked, smiling.

“Never you mind,” Ron said, claiming her lips a second time, only this time with far more purpose.

Hermione hadn’t worn much, and what she had worn ended up on the stone floor rather quickly. Ron’s dressing gown was also tossed aside in her need to feel skin against skin. He still wore his pajama bottoms, inches too short, and too tight now that he’s started putting on so much weight, especially with the hardness that was pressing insistently against her stomach as their mouths mated. Their tongues brushed against each other, battling for control, creating a searing heat that shot through her body, making her quiver with need.

Hermione ran her hand down his firm body, leaving goose flesh in her wake. She touched his defined chest, contoured stomach, then moved lower, slipping her fingers past worn elastic, searching for and finding his erection, stroking hot flesh, loving the feel of it so big and hard in her hand.

Ron’s lips broke away from hers and his breath hissed out of him. His eyes closed, and he thrust himself against her hand, obviously feeling the past few days of separation as much as she was.

Hermione was just starting to enjoy herself, imagining that it’d only be a few more seconds before he’d press her against the wall and slide inside her, gripping her hips in his large hands as he slammed into her over and over. . .

“St-stop, Hermione,” Ron stuttered, grabbing her hand through the faded blue material.

Hermione was stunned, her body had already started to respond to his moans, anticipating what was coming next.

“Why?” she said, not able to hide the reprimand in her voice at having been robbed of her fantasy.

Ron gave a strained chuckle, pulling her to an old chair that sat in the corner, one that had been well used since their christening of the third floor corridor. He fell back into cracked leather seat and she eagerly moved to crawl over him when he gripped her waist, and turned her about, then pulled her onto his lap with her back pressing against his chest.

“Ron. . . Wha- -”

He cut her off by turning her face until her could kiss her again, quickly resuming his domination over her mouth. His hands ran over her firm body, tracing the outside of her breasts, thumbs brushing hardened nipples, palms running up the inside of her thighs that she spread eagerly, yearning for a more intimate touch.

She pulled her lips away from his and tossed her head against his shoulder. This teasing went on for so long that Hermione started arching her back into him, rubbing her bum against his arousal, moving in a rhythm that she knew drove him mad. She didn’t understand what he was playing at, but she needed release. She wasn’t used to having to wait this long. Usually they came together almost violently the first time, then took time later to play, but he was doing things differently, and she getting more than a little frustrated by it.

“Ron. . .”

“Yes, love?” his voice was low, teasing, and very strained.

“Stop playing. . .” she hissed, exasperated.

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Am not. . .”

“Ron, touch me. . . make me come,” Hermione commanded, and she heard Ron’s sharp intake of breath behind her, could actually feel his arousal jump at her bold words.

“No,” Ron whispered, as his breathing against her ear became even more raged.

Hermione turned to look at him in surprise. His eyes were a deep cobalt blue, hungry with desire, but he looked resigned too, determined. Hermione realized that he was serious, he wasn’t going to touch her.

“Why the hell not?” she barked out before she could stop herself, and Ron’s eyes widened even further at her choice of words.

He seemed to hesitate, as though not really sure of the place he’d got himself into, but he went on. “I’m not going to touch you because you’re going to do it for me.”

“What?”

“You’re going to touch yourself. . . You’re going to make yourself come, not me.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, and she looked at him in horror. Of all the times to experiment, this wasn’t it.

“Ron. . . I. . . I don’t know how,” she said, actually feeling her face grow warm in embarrassment. She’d thought they were past that.

“I’ll help you,” he said, now sounding more eager.

“No. . . I don’t know. . .”

“You have no choice. . . If you want to come, you’ll do this,” Ron said, that devilish glint was back in his eyes. She could swear she felt his chest swell in male pride.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to beg him. If he was going to be a prat about it, than fine, she’d do it herself. She said she didn’t know how, but that was a lie. Though she’d never pleasured herself, she certainly understood how it worked. Ron did it for her quite often. He enjoyed watching her climax without the distraction of his own needs. Many times he’d reach out to her, half asleep after hours of making love, too tired to do anything but touch her, whispering that he needed to hear her just once more before he slept.

“Okay,” she said weakly, biting her lip, wondering where to start and feeling a little self conscious with Ron still looking over shoulder.

She hesitantly brought her hand to the chestnut curls between her legs, daintily touching the soft folds there when Ron’s hand closed over hers.

“Relax,” he urged, dipping his head down so he could suck lightly on the tender patch of skin at the base of her throat. “I said I’d help.”

Hermione felt a surge of comfort and relaxation go through her, starting at the point where his lips touched her neck, and sinking into her veins, flowing through her whole body like wine on a warm day.

Together their fingers slid between her moist folds. Ron’s hand guided hers at first, but Hermione rapidly got the hang of what she was doing. She was almost surprised at the darts of pleasure that shot through, pooling at her center. They were coming from her, from what she was doing. Ron had stopped a bit ago, contenting himself with holding her hand where it was, his thumb sweeping over the inside of her wrist at the pulse point there.

“When you’re at home, and you’re lonely,” Ron whispered, his voice so low it was barely recognizable. “Imagine that it’s me touching you.”

She nodded, just barely, but he must have noticed because she heard his breath catch. Then he stopped her, yanking her hand away from her center, and bringing her fingers to his lips, sucking on them greedily, tasting her essence on them. He flicked his tongue over the tip of her middle finger then guided her hand back.

“Imagine that it’s me tasting you,” Ron whispered. “That it’s my mouth loving you.”

His voice only spurred her, widely erotic images swirled in her head, and she rubbed herself more vigorously, seeing in her minds eye, Ron’s fiery hair fisted in her hands as she held him against her. She could almost feel his tongue there instead of her fingers.

She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut as the coil of excitement wound even tighter. Her head fell against Ron’s shoulder, her back arched, and her hips began to move against him, thrusting against her hand.

“Oh, fuck,” Ron ground out. She could feel his eyes roaming over her as he watched. “You need to come for me Hermione. . . Now!”

His hand slid into her hair, holding her head so he could whisper into her ear. He was pleading with her, saying things he knew drove her mad, promising he’d do just about anything if she’d hurry up.

Passion radiated from the soft core of her body, spurred on by Ron’s desperation, and she soared to an awesome shuddering ecstasy. Her breath coming in long surrendering moans as pleasure pulsed through her.

She didn’t notice that his grip in her hair was almost painful, she didn’t care that she was naked and sprawled out over him, wild and wanton as she started to drift down from her exquisite high.

Hermione was still humming in the aftermath of her climax when she squeaked in surprise. Ron had jerked forward, still holding her to him as he pulled them both to the floor. The cold stone stung her knees, it was horribly shocking after what she’d just gone through. When he moved she had to throw her hands out in front of her to stop herself from falling. The sound of ripping fabric reached her ears as Ron pulled at his pajama bottoms

“Ron, what are you- -”

He was directly behind her, then inside her, hard, but so good. His rough hands held her hips as he thrust even deeper into her warmth.

“Oh god,” she gasped.

Longing surged over her once more.

Ron was shaking as he took her. It was so hard, so demanding. From his position behind her, he kept hitting that spot deep within her, the one that made her gasp in sheer ecstasy. It didn’t take long for the fire to flow through her a second time and the world burst into a thousand dazzling stars around her.

Ron’s movements were erratic and her response was enough to drag him down with her into oblivion. He cried out, filling her with warm sticky pleasure as he jerked one finally time.

 

Afterwards Hermione rested her head on her arms, too weak to hold herself up anymore. Still connected to her, Ron leaned over, his moist forehead resting between her shoulder blades, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.

“Sorry,” he whispered when he’d settled a little.

“Don’t be, it was lovely.”

Ron laughed, and the sound of it filled Hermione with warmth. “You always think it’s lovely.”

It was true, but that’s because it always was. . . Lovely.


End file.
